


Learning to Relax

by firelord65



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Mid-Season One Compliant, Mini Character Study, Not Quite a Dinner Date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:35:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25009336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firelord65/pseuds/firelord65
Summary: A quiet evening onDiscoveryturns unexpected for Michael. She has elected to forgo shore leave - she isn't quite comfortable taking a perk like that while still remaining "Starfleet's Infamous Mutineer" - and has to be reminded that it's still okay to relax.
Relationships: Michael Burnham & Gabriel Lorca | Mirror Gabriel Lorca
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Learning to Relax

**Author's Note:**

> Starfleet HQ prompt June 2020: Shore Leave 
> 
> I’ve been watching a lot of Enterprise lately (Daniel’s pick) while continuing my rewatch of Disco (my pick). All the meals between the bridge crew in the captain’s little dining area resonated with me and I wanted to play around with that a smidge here while also poking into Michael’s guilt. There’s no way she would allow herself to relax and take shore leave, what little there may be, during the Klingon war. 
> 
> I was tempted to do some lowkey Michael/Lorca moments here but it ended up being pretty much gen throughout.

_ Discovery _ was quiet for a Friday. Michael’s day had progressed rather slowly. She wasn’t needed on the bridge during her work shift and had instead spent her time in the xenoanthropology lab. Even there Michael remained undisturbed. There were no specimens currently - no live ones, at least - and her attention was on her backlog of low priority projects. Scans of Ripper before, during, and after Black Alert jumps needed to be compiled and analyzed. Stamets had requested the information be included in the background section of his spore drive report. 

It was slow work but not unrewarding. Revisiting the old telemetry put a small smile on Michael’s lips; she missed working with the tardigrade. 

“I wouldn’t have thought you would have fond memories of here,” Captain Lorca said, breaking the comfortable silence of the lab. Michael turned from the console to address the captain. She hadn’t heard him come in. He had a habit of sneaking up when she wasn’t expecting it. 

“Why would you think that, sir?” Michael asked. She folded her hands in front of her in a polite parade rest. Regardless of no longer holding an officer’s rank, she wouldn’t fall out of good habits even when they put a bitter taste in her mouth. 

Lorca strode idly around the edge of the room. His gaze flicked idly along the specimen shelves and screens while his attention remained instead on Michael. “Commander Landry,” he offered simply. He lifted his hand to run along a sharp tear in one of the shelves. It must have been overlooked when the room had been repaired, Michael noted. 

The bitterness in her mouth spread to her gut. “It was a shame what happened to the Commander,” Michael said honestly. There had been no love lost between the former chief of security and herself, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t been a loss for Discovery. 

“She was a bit too much like her captain,” Lorca admitted. “Quick to act and unwilling to listen to expert advice if it means stopping for too long.” His hand dropped from the shelf and he stared ruefully at the ground for a long moment. 

Michael said nothing. The captain and Landry had seemed close. It wasn’t her place to agree or not. Lorca sighed. “Sometimes we need to step back and reassess,” he said. He turned on his heel and leaned against the wall. His sharp gaze was now on Michael rather than the creatures about them. “Speaking of, I was surprised when the computer told me you were working away down here. You know the bulk of the crew is station-side for some shore leave.”

She raised a single eyebrow. “My shift was scheduled for today. I thought it was prudent to catch up on some of these older projects while I could. Commander Saru had relieved me from the bridge. If you’d rather than I had reported my intentions-” Michael explained before being interrupted by a wave of Lorca’s hand. 

“I’m not here to micromanage your every move, Burnham,” Lorca said. That was true. When there was an urgent need - which was often seeing as Discovery was the current best tool in Starfleet’s belt for many of the war’s demands - the captain would be firm in his directions. But in quieter moments he didn’t seem to give too much thought to what she was involved in. He remained almost single-mindedly focused of late on the Spore Drive and Stamets. Idle analysis of Ripper’s telemetry wasn’t mission critical. 

“Is there anything you need in particular?” Michael probed. The clock on her console had ticked past her shift’s end well over an hour ago, but she was so close to finishing her current analysis. Just a few more minutes and she would be able to head down for late dinner. 

Lorca laughed. “It’s not what I need. It’s what you do. Do you even remember the last time that you took a break?”

There might have been a span of twenty or so minutes today when Michael had stepped back and had a cup of green tea. The antioxidants and polyphenols were a healthy boost to the caffeine kick she had needed. “I’m fine,” she insisted. 

A wry smile twisted Lorca’s lips. He replied smartly, “That’s a non-answer.”

Michael bit her lip. “I had some tea about midway through my shift. I’m going to get dinner in about twenty minutes. I will be fine, Captain,” she said firmly. 

“I meant a real break. One that’s longer than half an hour and you don’t need to spend with a PADD in your hand,” Lorca said. He wasn’t letting this point go, apparently. 

Sensing that this was a skirmish she wasn’t prepared to win, Michael tapped out a quick note of what her last points of analysis needed to be. “I know what you’re getting at. I have not taken shore leave for quite some time,” Michael admitted. She crossed her arms and leaned her hip against the console. “Frankly, I cannot recall the last time that I did.”

Lorca’s eyebrows raised and he gestured to the open space between them. “Now that wasn’t so hard to get off your chest, now was it?” 

Michael exhaled and shook her head in mild disbelief. “Captain, I don’t think that it would be… suitable for me to take a break. I have much that I can offer Discovery. You brought me on board because you needed my expertise, not to have me lounging on my bunk playing Kal-toh,” she replied. 

He remained unconvinced. “You can’t help Discovery if you never have time to recover for yourself,” Lorca countered. 

“... I am not going to be able to convince you that I’m perfectly fine, am I?” Michael said after another moment of consideration. 

The captain stepped forward and clapped her on the shoulder. His hand sat for a long beat. “I can and  _ will _ order you to take the next two days off, should I need to,” Lorca said wryly. “For now I’ll settle for dinner.” 

She allowed herself to nod in acknowledgment. “I will be in the mess hall within the next ten minutes. And that’s a promise,” Michael said.

Lorca had moved to the doorway. He still bore an bemused expression. “The mess hall? Oh no. That won’t do,” he said. 

Michael scuffed her feet under the table while her eyes flicked to and from her plate and the platter sitting in the center. She hadn’t wanted to accept Lorca’s demands that she accompany him to the tiny officer’s dining room. It wasn’t proper for her to be there, her conscience screamed. The last time that she had dined with the captain of a Starfleet vessel had been when she was still Georgiou’s right hand. 

Her plate was quickly piled with food as Lorca served from the platters. It wasn’t quite the setup that Georgiou had ever indulged in; but, well, Lorca certainly wasn’t the same kind of captain as Georgiou. 

“This all seems rather over the top,” Michael said once he had seated himself. 

Lorca raised an eyebrow. “It’s just replicated. Looks like a lot but can always resequence the leftovers.” He already had his knife and fork at the ready to dive into his pork chop. 

She grimaced. “No, not the food.” She picked up her fork and delicately stabbed one of the vegetables. It was difficult to meet his gaze. Eating was a suitable distraction. After a few silent bites Michael spoke again. “Captain, permission to speak freely?”

He gestured with his knife in a fashion that could only mean to proceed. 

“Why did you invite me here tonight? I understand my place on the ship and even on the bridge. Starfleet needs all the hands it can have during a war,” Michael mused. “But I’m a mutineer. I caused this war. How can you want to sit down and have a meal with me?”

She cautiously watched his expression. He finished the mouthful he had taken and cocked his head as he thought. “Well,” the captain admitted, “I figure if you’re good enough company for my science officers or my chief of security then you’re good enough company for me.”

Michael laughed. He didn’t. She pursed her lips and twirled her fork in tiny circles. 

“I keep my own counsel. I understand you’re still torn up about the  _ Shenzhou _ and what happened at the Binary Stars. That’s fine. Maybe don’t let it keep you from enjoying a modicum of time off though,” Lorca said firmly. He speared another strip of pork and resumed eating. When he spoke next it was as though there was nothing wrong; this was just another conversation between himself and a member of the crew. 

It still didn’t sit well in Michael’s gut to proceed so casually, so  _ normally _ . She answered Lorca’s inquiries with polite responses and informed him of several interesting highlights from the past week’s reports from the spore drive lab. Slowly her meal disappeared from her plate. Her pitch perfect posture relaxed and she even allowed herself another genuine laugh. How it all happened was unexpected. 

Lorca leaned back in his chair, the front two legs hanging in the air precariously while he crossed his arms over his chest. “See now isn’t that better than eating alone in the mess with techno jargon floating around in your head?” he said cheerfully. 

Michael smirked and dared to roll her eyes. “I don’t always sit alone. Sometimes Lieutenant Tyler keeps me company. When he can stomach the techno jargon,” she replied. 

“But you didn’t go with him to the station today?” The question punctured Michael’s good mood. 

Her smirk faded and she tapped one long finger on her crossed arm. “... No, I didn’t.” A half dozen excuses were left unsaid. Besides everything she had said to him in the lab there remained the lingering guilt. She didn’t go off-ship with Ash because it wasn’t something she had earned. Not yet. Not after two-thousand plus deaths at the Binary Stars. She was doing good things here and now, yes, but there remained the mental block. 

Lorca’s head bobbed. Then his chair snapped forward and he stood. 

“I don’t want to make assumptions about what you or your Vulcan friends drink,” he asserted. “But I do have a decent malt whiskey somewhere back here if that’s something you care for?” From a recessed cabinet he produced two glasses and a bottle that was mostly full. She regarded the glass he offered her with a careful glance. 

To accept or decline? She had made her reservations quite clear about what she was comfortable indulging in. And yet there was the voice in the back of her mind that told her she was okay  _ indulging _ in that party Tilly had dragged her to. That is, before the incident with Mudd. Was this really so different? Did it matter to anyone now that she took a few minutes to just be in the moment rather than linger constantly in the guilt of her past?

She ran out of time to question her response, and Lorca pressed the glass into her waiting palm. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said as he poured a moderate amount in each. “But I will note that this will  _ not _ be getting reconstituted. So you have to finish whatever you start.”

Michael raised her glass in a mock toast. “Duly noted,” she said before taking a small sip. 

He returned to his seat, though this time he angled it to face her more directly. One ankle sat on his knee, and Lorca leaned back once again. “Computer, bring the lights down to twenty percent,” he ordered. When Michael tilted her head in a questioning fashion he swirled his glass. “Getting a headache,” was the explanation. 

Michael took another sip of her drink rather than reply. The change in atmosphere was familiar, casual. Discomfort rattled around with her pork chops in her stomach. It was more difficult to fade back into the idle chit-chat that had taken over at the dinner table. 

She cleared her throat and forced herself to stop overthinking things. “I’ve always wondered something,” Michael said. “If I can ask a personal question? It is rather silly, though.”

“Fire away,” Lorca replied cheerfully. He seemed to prefer not having to drag the conversation out from her. 

“Your tribble. Why select that creature for a pet?” Michael blurted. 

Lorca blinked before letting out a chuckle. “Pure chance, I suppose. Never put too much thought into it. It was getting a bit too quiet in my ready room,” he said. He extended one finger to point definitively to Michael. “And no, I don’t let it get near the fortune cookies. I won’t be responsible for an infestation aboard a warship.” 

“Fair enough.” 

Quiet settled between the pair once more. Michael had to put her glass down for a few minutes; downing the whole portion in scant few minutes would give her the wrong appearance. Lorca had no such reservations, but then again he was the captain. It was his whiskey, too. 

“That was your one deep, personal question?” he grunted as he approached the bottom of his glass. 

Michael’s folded hands bounced on her knee. “For now. It’s all that I would feel comfortable asking without feeling improper,” she said. 

“So you do have questions, then.”

“Everyone has questions.” The statement came out without much thought. Michael picked up her glass again and hid behind the next sip. It wouldn’t help - in fact the liquor was certainly loosening her tongue - but it was better than meeting Lorca’s burning gaze. She had adjusted to the dark and it felt still too bright. 

He seemed amused at that. The rumor mill worked overtime along with the Starfleet crew of  _ Discovery _ . And Lorca didn’t offer much to agree with or dispute any of them 

“Well, I hope you don’t mind me asking one of my own,” he said. Michael didn’t. “How does  _ Discovery _ compare to your old ship?” Lorca asked. 

Exhaling slowly, Michael swallowed back the ever-fresh series of emotions that came when she was directly confronted with her memories of the  _ Shenzhou _ . When Lorca had brought up the Battle of the Binary Stars earlier, that even had been easier. Isolating her experiences on Captain Georgiou’s ship down to that fateful day allowed Michael to compartmentalize. There was the time before - the time that Lorca was asking about now - then her mutiny and now  _ Discovery _ . Breaking down the barriers between each made things messy. 

“Like you said at one point,  _ Discovery _ isn’t like any other ship in the fleet,” Michael replied. Lorca raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t a real answer. She settled her shoulders and tried again. “Being under command during a war is naturally different than my previous Starfleet tenure. And with my responsibilities being solely within the science specialization now, well, it’s very much a different day-to-day.”

Lorca gestured with his open hand. “Is it better though?” he asked plainly. 

Michael smiled but there was no joy in it. “It’s better than prison,” she retorted. After a beat she relented. “I don’t think that I can accurately or fairly compare my time on the  _ Shenzhou _ to now. Just like I can’t compare one captain to another. Which I believe may have been what you were looking for.”

“Guilty as charged,” he chuckled. He sat back in his chair, once again resting his ankle on his knee. 

“Every captain has their vanity,” Lorca admitted. “We all hope that we are someone’s favorite.” 

Her last few sips of whiskey disappeared. “Georgiou will never not have a special place in my mind. She placed a great deal of faith in myself when I was new and not a bit unpleasant to deal with.”

Michael cleared her throat and looked down at her empty glass. “That isn’t to say that I don’t also respect and appreciate the opportunities that I’ve been given here, as well,” she added in a low voice. “It’s nice. Both in the way that I can try to atone for my previous actions and that I can still use some of what Georgiou saw in me.” 

When she looked up once more, Lorca was staring curiously at her. Studying her. He was intense especially in the dim light, but more than that Michael appreciated the chance to talk and be listened to. 

“Well thank you for indulging my curiosity. And I hope that you know that your talents are still very much recognized and very much needed,” he said. “ _ Discovery _ is set to do great things. I’m glad that you’ll be here to be a part of it.” 

“Till the war is over,” Michael said with a nod. Lorca didn’t respond. Not right away. 

He moved to offer her a refill of her glass, but she declined. “I should probably let you enjoy the rest of your night,” Michael insisted. 

“Don’t rush off on my account,” Lorca said cheerfully. “But I won’t hold you any longer. Just wanted to make sure that you were getting some proper R&R.” 

Michael stood and smoothed out the creases in her uniform. She moved to the door and paused once more before departing. “Thank you, Captain. This was pleasant. A nice bit of normalcy.”

Lorca’s mouth twitched in a rueful smile. “We’ll have to do this again if you’re still feeling twitchy about taking real short leave.” 

“Goodnight, Captain.”


End file.
